Title: Boy Soldier

Author: Neldluva

Fandom: FFVII

Pairings: None, or lots, depending on how you look at it.

Rating: NC17

Don't read this if you don't like: Angst, sex (of the m/m and m/f sort), foul language, underage sex, questionable consent, masturbation, voyeurism (sort of), violence, blood, drug and alcohol use, prostitution

Disclaimer: Reno and FF7-verse are definitely not mine. Please don't sue, I have negative monies. The OC's are mine, though. Don't steal.

What you can expect from the fic overall: This is my version Reno's backstory, or how he got where he was in the various FF7 games and movies. It is a long, difficult journey, sometimes funny, sometimes sad. But hey, that's life.

What you can expect from this chapter: Reno starts his lessons. Will he be able to survive his teachers?

Author's note: I think I like messing with Tseng too much…

Reno was asleep, one foot dangling off the bed and a puddle of drool gathering under his mouth, when the foghorn sounded. He jerked out of sleep with a yell, rolling out of bed and immediately up into a defensive stance, ready to attack something. Jenkins strolled out of the bathroom they shared with the room next door, still wiping at his drying hair.

"Serves you right for sleeping in on your first day," he said smugly. "They aren't easy on us here."

Reno just growled quietly, pulling his clothes into place and messing with his hair. "They serve food around here?"

"Yeah, of course," Jenkins replied, blinking behind his glasses. "Why wouldn't they?"

Reno shrugged a little, making a quick trip to the bathroom before joining Jenkins again. He flopped on his bed, uncaring of the rumpled state of his clothes.

"Um, there's more clothes in the closet over there," Jenkins pointed out. "They really, really don't like it if you're not clean and dressed right, especially Mr. Tseng. Watch out for him if he sees you dressed as you are."

"Hey, I'm gonna dress however I like, okay?" Reno said, sitting up and staring at Jenkins. "They got you all whipped in here, don't they?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Jenkins said with a small smile. "But it's worth it. You're a pretty tough little guy, huh? I see why they picked you up."

"I ain't little," Reno growled, glaring at Jenkins. "Well, I guess the doc says I am, but who cares? Least I'm gonna get fed out here, yo. What about you, chicken boy? What're you doing here?"

"I was going to try for SOLDIER, but the Turks got me first." A smile spread over his face. "They saw I was too smart to be a grunt, which is true. Anyway, I never would've passed the physical tests. Turks rely less on brute strength and more on pure skill, and I'm much better at that. In here, I get to rewire bombs rather than swing a huge sword around."

Reno smirked a little … okay, so his roommate was a pansy, but at least he was a smart pansy. He could live with a smart pansy.

They were interrupted by a bell ringing through the intercom system. Reno jumped a little, startled off of his perch on the bed. Jenkins chuckled quietly and pulled his suit jacket on. The sleeves weren't quite long enough for his arms.

"Just the breakfast bell," the other boy explained. "It means we're getting fed."

"Oh … right, yo." Reno shrugged, throwing his skinny shoulders back. "Okay, lead the way, chicken boy."

He followed Jenkins down the corridors and to the elevator, down several floors to the mess. The other Turk candidates were already present and receiving their food. Reno fell into line behind Jenkins, his mouth watering at the mountains of food he saw. Before he could reach for any, though, one of the kitchen workers reached out to hold his wrist.

"You're Reno, right?" she asked. "We have a special tray for you." She brought out a tray from beneath the other food, and Reno's mouth watered even more when he saw how it was piled with food.

"Thanks, lady!" he crowed, following Jenkins to sit with the other candidates. He was barely sitting before he started shoveling food into his mouth, pausing hardly long enough to breathe. But despite his hunger and the overwhelming presence of the food, he couldn't stomach more than two thirds before it started threatening to come back up. He pushed the tray away and belched contentedly. Only then did he notice the stares of the people around him. He glared and crossed his arms over his chest, daring them to say anything.

"Why do you have marks on your face?" one of the girls asked, her fork hovering in midair.

"Yeah, and why's your hair so funny-looking?" asked a boy.

Reno scowled at them. "Cuz it makes me look good, yo. Why you starin' at me like I'm a circus freak, huh?"

"Hey, Jasper, Olive, cool it," Jenkins said. "This is my new roomie, Reno. He's a cool guy."

"You're so thin!" exclaimed another girl. "No wonder they gave you so much food!"

Reno scowled at her as well until he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He tilted his head back until he saw Monty's face.

"Good morning, Reno," Monty said amicably. "I hope you slept well?"

"Yeah, until you blew a fucking horn in my ear, yo," Reno grumbled back.

Monty just smiled. Reno ground his teeth with irritation. "Come along," the Turk ordered, pulling Reno out of his seat. "We have much to do today."

"I thought I couldn't start training yet?"

"No, not the official Turk training. But we have other ways to make the time pass."

Reno shifted his grip on the pencil again, his tongue sticking out with concentration as he diligently copied the figures on the board. He'd spent long enough locked in the room with the sadistic lady Turk he'd beat up on the street that he was getting hungry again, but she'd done everything but strap him to the chair and forced him to copy the letters. She wandered around his desk, chanting that stupid song, "A, B, C, D …" and he was trying to talk himself into getting up and strangling her.

"Can I eat yet, yo?" he whined, staring at his paper. It looked like chicken scratch. "I'm starving."

She looked at her watch and started circling him again. "Five more minutes."

Reno groaned and put the pencil to paper again. He hated writing, more than he hated anything else. The stupid alphabet should be burned and used as toilet paper.

"Now?"

"Four minutes. Keep copying."

Four minutes stretched like hours, and Reno felt boneless and brainless as he dragged himself back to the mess. Stupid Turks. He didn't want to join if they were going to make him write stuff, and Ms. Sadism had informed him that Turks were expected to write reports on every mission. Still, he wasn't much in the mood for quitting, so he figured he'd give the writing stuff another week. At least he was getting fed for his pains.

He wasn't especially surprised when the kitchen workers handed him another tray loaded with food, and he sat down with Jenkins again. He ate a little slower this time so he could listen to what the other candidates were doing. Apparently, it was the really fun stuff, the shooting-things-and-blowing-shit-up stuff. Reno scowled at his food, wishing he could go with them. He was also starting to get antsy for a cigarette … he'd lost his pack in his old clothes.

After the meal, though, he was led back to the same room he had been in. His instincts told him to cut and run where they wouldn't make him write any more, but he stayed put, determined to give it a chance. To his great relief, Ms. Sadism didn't come back to the room. Instead, it was a tall guy with dark hair and exotic-looking eyes.

"Hello, Reno, my name is Tseng," the new Turk announced. "I will be your tutor in mathematics. Have you ever had any training before?"

"Don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about, yo," Reno replied, putting his feet on the desk. "But hey, I don't care as long as it's not more alphabets."

Tseng just looked evenly at him, noting the slovenly appearance and carefree attitude. He still maintained his opinion that this child should not even be involved in Turk training, but Veld had overruled him. With a sigh, he straightened his papers and began to explain simple arithmetic.